


Gingerbread Heroes

by BatShitCrazy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, superbat - Fandom
Genre: Alfred snark, Bruce's avoidance issues, Fluffy, Incoherent Batman, M/M, Post Justice League Movie, SuperBat Secret Santa, Superbat Secret Santa 2017, dorks being dorks, gingerbread men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatShitCrazy/pseuds/BatShitCrazy
Summary: Batman is subjected to strange feelings.He feels watched.He feels guilty every time he looks at Clark.And manages to lose the ability of coherent speech around Superman.Superman doesn’t know how to talk to anyone anymore.He spends more time learning about the Bat from a distance.Diana and his Ma are wise.With the holiday season rapidly approaching, how will the cookie crumble?





	Gingerbread Heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clqkkent](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=clqkkent), [knoxoursavior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/gifts).



> This is my SuperBat Secret Santa for clqkkent.
> 
> The prompt was: assuming they're both around post-jl, bruce lowkey avoiding clark post-movie and clark managing to corner him during the holidays!
> 
> I may have run with it a bit. Parts that were only in the trailers, and not in the final cut of the movie, have been tickled in here and there. 
> 
> Sure hope you like it :)
> 
> Merry Christmas to all the SuperBat fandom friends out there.
> 
> *~*~*~*~*

***~*~*~ Batcave ~*~*~***

 

“Pardon? Could you repeat that?” Diana turned to Bruce for an explanation.

“I said, I didn’t know.” Bruce scowled at the monitor in front of him as he answered Diana.

“How could you not know?” Diana sounded exasperated.

Bruce finally turned from the screen to glare at the Amazonian, who stood with her hands on her hips, her lips twitching in obvious amusement, as she smirked at him.

“I shall have to mark this day on the calendar.” Diana’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and a full blown smile erupted as she spoke. “This is the day Bruce Wayne ‘didn’t know’ the answer to a question.”

Bruce grimaced at Diana’s use of air quotes. He was sure Barry was to blame.

Thinking of Barry was like summoning the speedster from thin air. Bruce made a grab for the papers and notes that were displaced, heralding the young man’s arrival. 

Barry saw the disgruntled expression on Bruce Wayne’s face and blanched instantly.

“Oh.. Geez.. I didn’t.. I mean.. Sorry,” Barry mumbled, catching all the papers before they hit the ground. 

“Here.. um..” The shy sheepish expression on Barry’s face made Diana laugh gently. 

Bruce took the pile without bothering to put them in any kind of order, and put them off to the side.

“Barry,” Bruce began. 

Before he could say any more, Barry was talking at a rapid pace and giving Bruce another headache.

“So I was downtown, back... home, you know? I heard on the police radio about a big robbery. I was just arriving at the scene, after getting changed. By the way, those new additions to the suit….” Barry’s eyes shifted, and Bruce caught the ‘tell’ the speedster had, when thinking went faster than the mouth could keep up.

“Barry!” Bruce growled.

“Right, yes, sorry.” Barry was still tripping over his words as he continued his tale.

It took Bruce a few moments to parse the meaning of what Barry was saying. The Flash had turned up to a bank heist. Superman also arrived on the scene and the pair had worked together to free the hostages, without incident, and capture the thieves. 

“It was awesome,” Barry finished up breathlessly.

Bruce couldn’t help the full body shudder that wracked him. Diana looked over with concern, and he indicated he was fine with a wave of the hand. 

“How was he?” Diana turned her attention back to Barry and asked the question softly.

Barry’s brow furrowed, and his eyes darted about before he seemed to settle on what he wanted to say.

“Quiet,” was the Scarlet Speedster’s answer.

Diana glanced across at Bruce worriedly, but the billionaire had turned back to his monitors, effectively cutting himself off from the conversation.

“He will return to us.” Diana tried to sound confident as she put her hand on Barry’s shoulder.

 

***~*~*~ Gotham ~*~*~***

 

Winter in Gotham was a challenge when ice covered rooftops and snow disrupted evidence trails. Batman had been still for so long that a drift of white powder started to collect on parts of his uniform. As tempted as he was to give a little shake, or brush it off, he didn’t move.

The cold weather also meant that criminal activity was generally conducted inside. 

A small shiver down his spine made him look away from the binoculars trained on the window of a certain mob boss. 

Batman felt watched. 

He carefully looked around. He couldn’t see any signs of another living being. Even the birds had roosted in the chilly atmosphere.

Turning his attention back to his binoculars, he once more focussed on reading the lips of his target.

*

High up above the cloud layer, a form floated in place. Muscular arms were crossed over a broad chest, and blue eyes unwaveringly stared below. As temptation to warm the dark figure cascaded through his thoughts, the dark haired head shook from side to side. 

Wanting to talk to the black clad man, and acting on it, were two different things. What would he say anyway? It seemed that any conversation between the two was bound to be awkward and stilted, especially after the confrontation in Heroes’ Park.

_ “The world doesn’t need you,” _ the words came back to haunt the trespasser into Gotham.

Sadly, the hovering figure turned and flew off in the direction of Kansas.

 

***~*~*~ Diana ~*~*~***

 

Diana looked up from the papers on her desk. Seeing her visitor brought a smile to her face, and she got up from her chair to rush over and give the man a big hug.

“Clark, it’s so good to see you,” Diana enthused.

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unexpectedly?” the bespectacled reporter asked.

“Of course not. Don’t be silly. It’s always a pleasure to see you. Have a seat.” Diana released her hold and indicated a low sofa nearby. 

The pair sat, and Diana reached towards Clark’s hand. When she felt him wince, her brows furrowed with concern.

“What is it?” she asked gently.

Clark took a breath before he spoke, forcing himself to accept Diana’s grip. He could swear he felt his palms start to sweat.

“I.. it’s..” Clark was obviously struggling with his words.

Diana squeezed the large hand in hers to encourage her compatriot.

“Lois and I broke up.” The words came out in a rush.

Diana’s heart squeezed in empathy.

“Clark, I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“It was my own fault, Diana,” Clark said sadly. “I don’t seem to be good with people anymore. It’s... hard.”

Diana saw pain as Clark laughed at himself in a deprecating manner. She waited patiently.

“I took her back to the farm. She had the ring with her. I… I told her that I’d taken it as a yes.” Clark looked away into the distance. “She apologised, said she hadn’t been a good person, and pushed the ring back into my hand.”

Diana’s heart nearly broke. 

Time to change tactics, she thought to herself.

“Have you given any more thought to the League?” Diana felt that Clark needed to be around others like himself, different to humanity but with the strong desire to protect and save them.

Clark flinched very obviously. 

Diana gently took her hand from Clark’s grip and slowly stretched her fingers.

“Sorry,” Clark said, motioning to her hand.

“It’s fine, Clark. But you’d be in trouble if I was human,” she laughed, trying to make light of the situation.

Clark sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. Human, like Bruce, he pondered. Giving himself a little shake, he brought his attention back to Diana’s question.

“I don’t know about the League. I don’t know if I’m ready,” he said miserably.

“But you are ready. You were there, beside us, when we fought. You know we couldn’t have done it without you. You should talk to Bruce,” Diana commented.

A look of confusion crossed Clark’s face, but Diana didn’t want to pursue that reaction just yet.

“I.. he won’t.. I don’t know how to talk to him,” Clark buried his face in his hands.

“Dwelling on the past doesn’t help. I know. I have experienced those feelings. Locking myself away from mankind for a hundred years also made me realise that you have to take every opportunity you can. You may not know how to approach a conversation with him but you need to, don’t you? ” Diana watched Clark’s head whip up at her question.

“I’m sorry, Diana. This was a bad idea. I’ve got to go,” Clark stood suddenly and took the few steps to the door.

Pausing at the threshold, Diana could see the conflict written clearly on Clark’s face as he turned to bid farewell.

_ Well, this will never do, _ Diana thought to herself. 

 

***~*~*~ Avoidance ~*~*~***

 

Diana let herself into the Cave as Bruce was working on the undercarriage of yet another machine. 

“You know, I keep asking myself why I spent millions of dollars on this building’s security,” Bruce said without any heat.

“I remember. Are you missing your solitude? Because you said the same thing last time I visited,” Diana smirked. “Alfred let me in.”

Bruce extricated himself from the machinery, wiping his hands on a nearby grease cloth.

“Is something wrong?” Bruce asked. 

As his full attention focussed on the Amazonian, Diana could begin to understand Clark’s reluctance to approach the man in front of her.

“Clark came to see me.” As Diana spoke the words, she could pinpoint the exact moment Bruce’s mask came up, and he shut down inside. He began to turn away when Diana took hold of a still grubby wrist.

“He needs help, Bruce,” she stated quietly.

“I’m not the one to give it to him,” Bruce stated blandly as he shook off her grip and descended into the darker parts of the cave.

Shaking her head in exasperation, she left Bruce to his own devices.

 

***~*~*~ Visiting the Dead ~*~*~***

 

Bruce walked slowly through the long grass. His fingertips brushed the top of the dried foliage as he headed to his destination. In the distance, the looming hulk of the Manor seemed to watch him, judge him for his failings both present and past. A chill wind blew that seeped past his jacket and clothes, to cling to his skin.

Veering away from the bones of the only home he’d ever known, he continued his slow journey with a small bunch of flowers in his numb fingers. The cold steel of the gate seemed to burn his hand as he pushed it open.

As the distance closed between himself and the mausoleum, Bruce couldn’t repress a shudder. He’d been to too many funerals, and the depths of his own failure meant Superman’s had burned just as viscerally as his own parents.

Entering the shadowy tomb where his ancestors lay, the only light spilled in from the grey Gotham skies through the open door. His steps didn’t echo as he walked quietly over to the two plaques set in the wall.

Thomas and Martha Wayne. He knew the plain stone next to his parents was to be his own resting place. Refusing to look at the unmarked marble, he focussed instead on his parents names.

“I’ve made mistakes,” he said with his head bowed in shame. “I don’t know how to fix them. You would be ashamed of me.”

A single tear slid down his cheek as he placed the flowers into the holder.

“We corrected my biggest mistake, but I let fear rule me. I still do. I don’t know what to do. Every time I see him, I am … reminded of my failures,” Bruce dropped to his knees and took big heaving breaths. 

*

Outside, hidden in the remains of the old Manor, Clark felt guilty for listening. His Ma had always told him it was rude to eavesdrop, and he had no valid reason to be here. Something inside him insisted he see Bruce. He had intended to approach the vigilante after the visitation to the resting place of the only family the man had ever known. A familiar ache echoed inside his chest. He began to understand the billionaire a little more, but it didn’t make it easier. And Bruce would resent Clark seeing weakness and frailty; t. The human side of the Bat.

Clark sighed and quietly left.

 

***~*~*~ Meeting ~*~*~***

 

The next time Bruce and Clark were in the same room was once more at the Manor. A large room had been fitted out with a circular table, reminiscent of King Arthur’s round table from the fabled Camelot.

They weren’t alone, for which both were grateful.

Diana took a seat on one side of Bruce, and Arthur on the other. Flash and Cyborg sat together. Superman had arrived last due to a train derailment. Even sitting next to Diana felt too close to Clark. 

Bruce began to speak to the group and deliberately avoided looking in Clark’s direction. He had plans, ideas to share. As the meeting drew on, Alfred arrived with drinks and snacks before leaving silently.

Clark watched and listened but contributed little to the discussion. He didn’t feel comfortable in Bruce’s presence. Watching from a distance was different from being in the same room, even if they weren’t alone.

Diana brought up sparring with each other, learning the strengths and weaknesses of their teammates. Barry sat straighter in his seat and hesitantly raised his hand. 

“I… have a request actually,” the speedster said.

“Go on,” Diana encouraged.

“I want to race Superman,” Barry said quickly, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“You would,” Victor said, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

“Sure,” answered Clark. “Just let me know when and where.”

The group laughed, except for Bruce. He was looking down at the papers he was gathering. At the sound of Clark’s voice, the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

“Bruce?” Diana queried.

“You don’t need me for this. I have work to do.” Bruce replied gruffly.

“We do need you. Are you against the idea of sparring?” Diana continued.

“No, it’s necessary,” Bruce said as he ran a hand over his face. 

He was tired. Instead of catching up on sleep, he was here at this meeting, and he was needed for patrol tonight. A burst of energy caught up with him when he’d heard Superman was going to be in attendance. A pity it was short lived. 

“Worried you might get hurt  _ again _ , Bat?” Arthur’s voice was laced with humour.

Bruce glared at the Atlantean.

“No. Getting hurt is par for the course,” Bruce stated blandly.

An indrawn breath from the other side of Diana almost made Bruce look. Clark had been more than hurt, he had been dead. Any further words died in his throat. He slipped the paperwork into a folder and stood.

“If there’s nothing else?” Bruce gritted out.

“Bruce,” Diana’s kind tone as she reached for his arm was the last straw.

Pushing back his chair, he got up from the table and left without another word.

*

“Diana,” Clark began softly. “I knew coming here was a mistake.”

“Not at all, Superman,” Arthur answered in his deep voice. “Without you, we wouldn’t have defeated Steppenwolf.”

Clark tried to smile reassuringly at the remaining people around the table, but his hearing had caught the sound of a heartbeat moving away from the Manor. He tried not to read too much into it.

“Tomorrow,” Barry said suddenly. “Can we race tomorrow?”

Clark smiled and nodded. Barry whooped joyfully, and the group slowly broke up, each going their own way back home. Clark could only head back to Kansas. Lois lived in their once shared apartment in Metropolis.

Before he could lift off into the sky, Diana stepped in front of him.

“Kal, you can’t keep doing this,” she stated firmly.

“Doing what?” Although Clark already had an idea what she was talking about. Everyone had heard his reaction to Arthur’s comment about being hurt, again, meant. 

“You and Bruce. If we are going to work together as a team, you both need to get past this… block.” Diana’s conviction was evident as she spoke. “He is a complicated man. Despite being human and without enhancements, he fought as hard as the rest of us. He had to ‘convince’ us to bring you back. Like you, he has a strong sense of Justice and cares about his city.”

“I see that, Diana. I really do,” Clark answered, more than a little frustrated. “But he wears more armour than Kevlar. He wears his pain like a shield. It might actually be more impenetrable than yours. There are more masks than just Bruce Wayne and the Bat. He may only be human, but he won’t allow himself the luxury of admitting it.”

Diana put her hands on his face, much like his Ma had done, and stared into his eyes.

“You,” she said softly. “Are beginning to understand a complex and turbulent man of many layers. You will find a way.”

Clark was left standing there as Diana turned and made her way to her Mercedes parked nearby. 

The sun was setting, and Clark watched the sky change colours. He closed his eyes and stretched his senses out, letting the world fill the void that seemed to exist inside him. A sound caught his attention. Grunts and clanking noises. It took a moment to identify what he heard. It was Bruce, down in his Cave, training. But it was more than just training. The man sounded like he was punishing himself. 

Clark thought about going to confront Bruce but hesitated too long. With a sigh, he turned towards Kansas and lifted up into the sky.

 

***~*~*~ Thanksgiving at the Manor ~*~*~***

 

Bruce was picking at his food. It was Thanksgiving. All the members of the League were piling their plates high with turkey and all the trimmings. Alfred had cleared away most of the empty dishes, even as Barry and Arthur were going for thirds. At least he wouldn’t be eating turkey sandwiches for the next week.

The atmosphere was subdued. There had been plenty of chatter as the meal was enjoyed, but it was obvious there was one teammate missing.

Clark.

When Barry told the group that he had Superman on speed dial, there were collective groans.

What was worse, was that Flash had then called the Man of Steel. His gut clenched as he heard Clark answer the phone. Barry would monopolise the conversation so he could just stay silent. Diana gave him a pointed look, which he ignored.

“You should be here, Clark,” Barry exclaimed. 

Bruce wanted to facepalm. That boy was impossible. The phone was held out over the table. Great, they were on speaker.

“Hello Kal-El,” Diana called out from next to Bruce.

“Hi Diana.”

Bruce could hear the smile in the voice. 

“Hey,” Arthur added his voice to the greetings while piling his plate with more food. 

Now he’d be expected to say something, he thought bitterly. Bruce glanced at Cyborg who was seated furthest away from the food, towards the end of the table, by choice. He briefly wondered how the machinery would process organic material. His eyes snapped up from the glowing chest and met Victors unwavering gaze. 

A beep was heard on Barry’s phone and a light chuckle came through the speaker.

“Oh hey, Arthur, and Victor too. It’s almost a regular meeting, is everyone there?” Clark asked, and laughed a little nervously. “Hold on a sec.”

Clark was mumbling to Martha in the background, the hand over the microphone not bothering to hide the fact. Everyone’s eyes landed on Bruce as he turned back to look over the food he was pushing around on his plate. He’d controlled his body’s reaction to hearing Clark laugh, but it was requiring a lot of effort. 

Alfred leaned over his shoulder to top up his glass.

“I told you not to go out last night,” the english butler whispered quietly.

“Oh… Hey, Ba… Bruce,” the confident voice now wavered. “Alfred, is he brooding on Thanksgiving?”

“Master Wayne is, as always, the same. Some days just aren’t as bleak as the rest,” Alfred snarked. “For which, I am Thankful. However, your company is the only thing lacking at this table.”

Bruce winced at the easy banter between his most trusted confidante, and the being he’d tried to kill. He picked up the wine glass, downed the contents rapidly, and tried to ignore the burn in his gut from hearing Clark’s voice.

“I’m spending Thanksgiving with Ma. We are especially Thankful to be home. Bruce… “ and Clark’s voice drifted off to nothing. Silence descended on the room. Bruce felt his breath catch in his throat. He steadied his voice as he spoke.

“You’ll have to join us for Christmas then, you and Martha,” Bruce said lightly.

Inside his head, he wondered what the hell possessed him to invite Clark and Martha to Gotham. If he was Brucie at that moment, he would have spilled his own drink on himself to stop him from opening his mouth again.

“I.. I’ll.. We’ll talk about it, later… and let you know, ok? Anyway, you all have a nice Thanksgiving. I gotta go.” and Clark had sounded notably flustered.

In the background, Martha could be heard getting excited about the invitation Bruce had extended. Shit, he thought to himself. Where was an emergency when you needed one?

Barry whooped at the thought of a big Christmas feast, as he finished off yet another helping of food. Arthur grinned, and Diana was radiating happiness. Bruce knew she would be giving him a hard time later. Victor must be sending text messages to Clark because another beep was heard.

“Yes, Victor. Thanks,” the Kryptonian said.

The others said their farewells and sent good wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving. Bruce’s temple throbbed with a building headache.

“Happy Thanksgiving, to you and Martha,” Bruce finally gruffed when it was his turn to farewell the blue clad hero.

“You too, Bruce,” Clark acknowledged.

The call ended and Bruce had to avoid sucking in a huge lungful of air. 

Alfred topped up his glass once more.

“I’ll make the preparations for guests over Christmas, Master Wayne,” Alfred said lightly from just behind his elbow.

The rest of the group looked at him expectantly. His head started to pound in earnest. 

“Of course, everyone is invited,” he replied to the unasked question. Mentally he was trying to figure out what sort of demon had possessed him to invite not only Clark, but Martha, to Christmas dinner.

*

After lunch, Bruce headed down to the Cave to work. What he was finding unbalancing, was how the rest of the League just followed him down. On one hand, not having to hide that he was working. On the other hand, there were people in his space, in his secrets.

Barry zoomed off ahead, as per usual. Bruce turned to Diana, who simply smiled at him, and he shrugged his shoulders. Barry grinned widely at every pause, before the flicker of lightning continued to do laps around the upper levels. 

Listening to Victor and Barry talk about his tech, he noted Arthur stand near a workbench. He raised his eyebrow slightly, did Arthur know what was next to him?

Barry left Victor near a terminal and sped over to Arthur. 

“So… Did I hear right? Bruce asked you to put the word out to the ‘fish community’?” Barry used accompanying air quotes and wore a big shit eating grin as he spoke. 

Bruce wanted to glare at the young man.

Arthur just laughed and clapped Barry on the back, sending the speedster sprawling. He was up again in a blur of lightning.

“Not as soft as last time,” Arthur smirked.

Barry’s face went beet red, and muttered agreement was heard as he looked away, when the speedster just happened to catch Bruce’s eye. 

Bruce’s eyes flickered to the device on the table behind Arthur and back again. Barry’s eyes widened so Bruce lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head in invitation. Barry began to grin but was back at Arthur’s side before it was fully formed.

Bruce grimaced ever so slightly as Barry started picking up random things from the work surface. 

“Wow, new toys?” Barry asked playfully.

Arthur just looked over at Bruce, probably expecting a BatGrowl to be forthcoming. He didn’t see Barry pick up the gas canister that had small shark symbol on the side.

Bruce controlled his smirk until Arthur spoke.

“The Bat needs his toys to keep his ass alive,” the Atlantean declared.

“Now,” he called, and leapt from his chair. 

Bruce headed to the elevator, tapping Victor on the shoulder and nodding at Diana to join them. A loud splutter was heard echoing in the space, and a streak of lightning joined them just as the mechanism engaged.

“Barry,” Arthur called, waving his arms around. 

Bruce paid attention to the effects, out of curiosity. One might need a deterrent for the Justice Leaguers themselves someday.

“Bat, were you in on this?” Arthur’s deep tone came from within the smoky area.

It was clear that the formula had no effect on the half human, half atlantean. Bruce took in the faces around him. Barry was looking a little fearful every time Arthur spoke, but he was still grinning from ear to ear. Diana had her lips pursed in amusement, putting up a poor facade of feigned interest. Victor was shaking his head slightly, trying to stifle his own smile. For the first time in a long time, Bruce let himself laugh at the sheer silliness of it all. It was like a weight had been lifted. Apparently, his laughter was contagious because soon, everyone in the elevator was cracking up.

As the doors of the elevator opened upstairs, Alfred was waiting to greet them.

“Master Wayne, did you engage the ventilation system?” The Englishman asked in brisk manner.

“Of course, Alfred,” Bruce answered cheekily.

“Then I suggest you open the doors quick smart, unless you want to rebuild again. I hear Mister Curry arriving on the stairwell now,” the gentlemen’s gentlemen snarked.

Bruce’s hand went to a nearby panel and a few buttons pressed. The well hidden door to the stairs came flying off the hinges. He winced as he heard a ‘tut tut’ from Alfred. Arthur paused in the doorway and looked at Bruce, down at the broken door and back again.

“You can afford it,” Arthur smiled.

“ThanksForTheAmazingFood-IgottaGo-ByeBruceByeAlfredByeDianaByeVictorByeArthur,” was heard followed by the crack of air displacement.

“Oh you can run, Barry,” Arthur hollered.

Bruce saw an amused expression on the face under the shaggy hair. Arthur tipped him a salute and took off after the Flash.

“Minimal damage done, Master Wayne,” Alfred says from his nearby position. “I shall reinforce the replacement before Christmas, or do you think a hanging curtain would be more practical?”

Diana, Victor, and Bruce gave up at that point and laughed once more.

 

***~*~*~ Thanksgiving at the Farm ~*~*~***

 

Clark had finished helping his Ma clear the table. She had cooked enough to feed an army, as usual. He was still pondering the unusual call as he flicked the television on to a replay of the Macy’s Parade in New York City.

He let his vision fade and opened his hearing. A smile quirked the edge of his lips as he listened in on the group in Gotham. His eyes widened slightly at the sound of laughter. Sure, he’d heard Bruce Wayne laugh, but this was different. By the time everyone else had joined in, Clark was mesmerised by the deep throated sounds of the Bat. 

Snapping fingers caught his attention, and his Ma’s smiling face was tilted up at him.

“Do you need to go?” Martha asked.

Clark shook his head and a sad smile settled on his face. 

“No,” he said a little ruefully. “They’re having a good time.”

Martha didn’t need to ask who they were. She knew Clark wanted to fit in with the group, especially since Lois. She took hold of his hands and dragged him down to sit on the sofa.

“You could have gone,” Martha started to say.

“What? No! It’s my first Thanksgiving back with you at the farm,” Clark reassured.

“We have a lot to be thankful for because of Bruce. Not just the house, Clark. You. I heard he nearly got into a fight to have them agree. I’m glad he fought for you. He must be very brave to go against Diana the way he did,” Martha said holding onto his hand. 

Clark was surprised to hear that his Ma knew about that. He still wasn’t completely clear about what happened. Arthur had mentioned that Bruce had acted the asshole towards Diana and got put in his place. There seemed to be more underlying the argument than he was aware of. He would have to dig in a bit deeper it seemed. Thinking about his Ma’s words, he thought back to Diana’s conversation in her office, about how Bruce got hurt all the time. He was nearly overcome with a surge of protectiveness. 

Clark nodded numbly back to his Ma. Here he was struggling to talk to a man that had already spoken volumes. Bruce may not use words but had expressed himself in the way he had cared about them. All of them, in his own way, and wondered if Bruce Wayne would ever cease to amaze him.

“He doesn’t talk to me,” Clark admitted a little despondently.

“Do you talk to him?” Martha reached out to touch his cheek. “Communication is a two way street, honey. Being who he is, I don’t imagine he will be very forthcoming.”

Martha laughed gently, got up from the sofa, and turned towards the kitchen.

“I’ve got an idea, seeing as we’re invited for Christmas,” she throws back over her shoulder. Clark could see how her eyes twinkled with mischief and excitement. He shook his head at his Ma, who was rummaging amongst her recipe books, mumbling about baking something special.

Then it hits him that he’s been invited for Christmas!

 

***~*~*~** **PR NIGHTMARE ~*~*~***

 

Bruce arrived at the Christmas Benefit alone. The cameras flashed in his eyes as he strode towards the entrance, convincingly hiding a limp that resulted from last night’s patrol. He pasted on a charming grin and made his way inside. The sight that greeted him made him want to turn around and run back outside, into the arms of the paparazzi. He was staring straight at Clark Kent’s back. The man straightened suddenly and twisted to look at him. Bruce self-consciously pulled at his cufflinks, and smoothed down his jacket. By the time he looked up, Clark was standing in front of him with his hand extended.

“Mr Wayne? Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” It was different, lighter, than the Superman voice he usually heard. More often than not, in his nightmares.

“I’m late,” he said hastily.

Instead of taking the offered hand, Bruce fixed his tie, fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, and went to move past Clark, towards the Ballroom. Or the bar, whichever was closest.

A hand on his arm stopped him, and he stared into deep blue eyes hidden behind unneeded spectacles. He looked down at the light grip he was held in. 

“Why don’t you like me?” Clark spoke softly, for his ears alone.

Bruce straightened slightly, frowning at the puzzled expression he saw.

“As I said before, I don’t not like you,” he repeated the words spoken the last time the question was asked.

“You’re avoiding me.” This time Clark sounded a little sad.

He refused to meet Clark’s eyes at the expression his next words would put there. 

“I am,” he said through a half gritted smile, while looking around for eavesdroppers. He didn’t need them to be noticed.

“Why?” Clark said softly, there was no denying the tone this time. 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Bruce stated, scowling at the Metropolitan reporter. He wrenched his arm out of that warm grip, and continued into the glitz and glam beyond the foyer. 

*****

Clark stood in a daze. 

The moment he’d grabbed Bruce’s arm, when Bruce had stared into his eyes, seemed imprinted on his retinas. He had heard Bruce’s heart spike, the barely caught catch of breath, the instantaneous rush of adrenalin. He’d felt similar within himself. 

Clark left the luxurious hotel and walked away from the crowd. When it was safe to do so, he blurred behind a shrubbed garden hedge and was flying away. Once he got altitude, he began to fly easily. There was no direction chosen, he just flew in random paths over the landscape below. His thoughts wandered as he glided through the air.

Why did he want the man to like him so much? He’d overheard conversations between Bruce and the members of the League. Bruce even seemed to be mellowing out with the others. He’d helped Barry get a job, made sure Victor was looked after, and started a relief fund for the town in Russia. He couldn’t forget how Bruce had bought the bank to save his Ma’s farm.

Clark was most envious of the way Alfred interacted with Bruce. The easy understanding they shared. Diana seemed to not take the Dark Knight seriously, unless required by circumstances. He found himself snickering quietly in the barn, or wherever he was, when someone got one over the Bat. But the man took care of each of them, in his own enigmatic way.

It was obvious Bruce cared. Maybe too much with the way Batman threw himself into Gotham.

Clark began to wonder if the man ever rested. He shook his head. No, of course not. 

Clark admired his dedication; it was both frightening and inspiring. He’d met generous people in his life, of both spirit and wealth, but none ever gave as much as Bruce Wayne did.

Every direction Bruce turned in, the man seemed to go full throttle. At the last few meetings of the group, Bruce looked tired. It had shocked Clark down to his core. He noticed every visible, and not so visible, scratch and bruise. 

Clark knew he was developing deeper feelings for Bruce. He worried for the billionaire, and had begun checking on him regularly. The steady heartbeat always in the periphery of his hearing. He had learned so much about Bruce without being face to face.

He just had to figure out how to crack the hard shell, and how to connect with the man under the masks and armour.

 

***~*~*~** **Gingerbread Heroes ~*~*~***

Batman was annoyed. The holiday season brought with it an abundance of extra lighting, even in Gotham. Festive colours reduced the shadows in which he lived. His grapple tangled in tinsel and some of his regular lookout points now included Santas and reindeer. 

Some even thought it amusing to put santa hats on the gargoyles. 

He tore down any Christmas themed Batman decorations he saw. People thought they were funny. He sighed deeply, and turned his thoughts to other things.

It wasn’t that he hated Christmas. The thought of spending time in good company was immensely appealing. He just hadn’t had a reason to celebrate Christmas in a long time. Company became limited to Alfred. Brucie Wayne went to parties and events, helped raise money for those in need, but there was never good companionship for him there.

Batman was watching over the square where the Christmas Tree would be lit by the Mayor. A big gathering could be an irresistible lure for any number of Gotham’s rogues. Gordon had his men on the ground, mixing with the crowd both in uniform and civilian guise. There had been nothing on the grapevine about a hit on the event, but that didn’t stop the Dark Knight from overseeing the celebrations.

The thought of returning to his empty home made his stomach curdle. He hadn’t felt this lonely in many years. Alfred had also been gleefully updating him on plans for Christmas, now only a week away.

His heart beat with excitement and dread at the prospect of spending the day with Martha and Clark. 

Clark. Even thinking the name made the recriminations spring forth in his mind. He had to resolve this situation. Establish boundaries and whether or not they could work together. Bruce found it hard to be in the same vicinity as the Man of Steel. He had his doubts over whether he could change that. 

Eyes not leaving the crowd, he began to ponder when, exactly, did he start craving companionship. It could be the formation of the League, the awkward fellowship that had grown between them all. 

It was new to have so many people know who he was under the cowl. Alfred didn’t hesitate to remind him at every opportunity.

“You don’t need to sneak away, Master Wayne,” Alfred had said. “They all know you are headed back into your cave. It’s not like you have a real life these days anyway.”

Bruce knew he was kidding himself though. He changed the moment Doomsday’s spike had pierced a blue clad chest. A familiar sensation of guilt welled up. If he hadn’t been so hell bent on his crusade against a potential threat that didn’t exist… 

He left the thought unfinished. 

Superman--Clark--seemed to be struggling just as much as Bruce was. Diana had nagged at him to help the Kryptonian, but he couldn’t. Every time he faced those blue eyes, it felt as if he had been dealt a blow to his chest. 

_ Fitting, _ he thought condescendingly to himself. 

Bruce didn’t know what Clark needed. Hell, he couldn’t figure out what he needed for himself. How was he expected to help Clark? All he knew was that his heartbeat increased, his chest became tight, every time Superman or Clark was near. 

His attention was drawn away from his contemplations as the crowd began to cheer. Everyone was looking at the stage in front of the giant tree. 

It was only the sensation of being watched that dragged his eyes away.

Floating nearby was Superman.

“What do you want?” The question was asked in Batman’s flat gruff voice.

He very clearly saw the Man of Steel flinch at his words. Bruce silently castigated himself and took a deep breath.

“Can I help you?” he tried again, making his tone more inviting despite the modulator.

The smile that was bestowed on him made his heart clench in his chest. 

_ Oh god, _ he thought to himself. 

That smile was like sunshine coming out from behind clouds. He wanted to look away but couldn’t.

Superman drifted down to land silently, out of sight from the street below. Batman took a few steps away from the edge and tried desperately to control his racing heart as certain facts began to dawn on him.

“Your heart,” Clark started, only to stop again.

Bruce clenched his fist in irritation at himself. He began a technique for controlling his bio-feedback, telling himself to calm down. As Clark stepped towards him, he gave up because his heart was hammering despite his efforts. He couldn’t concentrate around Clark. 

At every League meeting, he’d found himself getting flustered, but he ensured he attended the same ones Clark did. Whether he’d sometimes been awake for days, and could have watched the security feed later, he found himself awake and sitting at the large table.

“Do you hate me that much?” Clark asked softly.

“What?” The question surprised him. “No, that’s not…”

His voice failed him. He didn’t know what to say. 

Clark’s head tilted to the side questioningly.

“Haven’t we had this conversation before? You don’t not like me? But your respiration increases, your adrenaline rises, and your heart,” Superman gestured towards Bruce. “It’s like you’re always furious with me. Are you sorry I came back?”

“NO,” Bruce shouted. He turned away from the invulnerable being, willing himself to think. He had thought he hid his responses to their proximity well in the past, but he was obviously mistaken. It grated at him as he paced in the small open space of the roof.

“I can leave,” Clark said the words sadly.

Bruce turned back to see sorrowful eyes on him. That expression looked so out of place. Bruce never wanted to see it again. 

“No... don’t have to… go, I mean.” Batman cursed himself at his seeming inability to make coherent sentences around Clark. 

“I brought you a present,” Clark began, a small smile curling at the edge of soft looking lips. “It’s nothing fancy. Ma and I were doing a trial run of baking for the party and well, I... I mean, we thought you’d like a sneak peek. She’s waiting, at home, to hear what you think.”

Clark was holding a small package wrapped in transparent cellophane paper. Bruce could see it contained decorated gingerbread men. Clark walked towards him with the gift on an outstretched hand.

Bruce stepped forward to take it. Their hands briefly touched during the exchange. He instinctively took a half step back, when a hand grabbed at his forearm. A tingle shot up through him, despite the armour he wore.

“Sorry,” Clark mumbled, quickly removing the hand and looking away from Bruce’s face.

“No, it’s… ok,” Bruce said hesitantly. All those years of education seemed wasted because Bruce couldn’t even speak English anymore, or think.

Clark’s eyebrows shot up, and a happy expression filled his vision.

“Really?” Clark asked.

The hopeful look he gave Bruce melted all his resolve. Bruce looked down at the gift in his hand and smiled. The gingerbread men were decorated to look like Superman and Batman. The wrapper was noisy as he undid the accompanying bow. Superman seemed to flinch at the sound, but it wouldn’t be heard over the crowd attending the tree lighting. He pulled out a Superman Gingerbread man and held out up into the light.

“Who chose the decorations?” he asked lightly.

Clark’s shoulders seemed to drop and relax. Another smile quirked at the corner of the handsome mouth. Wait? When did he start thinking of Clark as handsome?

“Actually, it’s a pretty funny story,” Clark spoke with amusement lacing his tone. “Ma couldn’t get black icing.”

Bruce tilted his head fractionally, and barely avoided startling, as Clark reached in to get a Batman decorated treat. Clark held it up against where Bruce had the Superman figure bathed in festive lighting. Clark made the the likenesses touch hands.

“Hello,” Clark said in a silly growly voice. “I’m Batman. Can we be friends?”

Bruce’s heart nearly stopped at the words. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Kryptonian’s expression begin to fall. Clark must have noticed his heart skip. He gritted his teeth at himself and took a breath.

“Hello,” Bruce spoke in an obvious midwest drawl. “I’m Superman. We should all be friends.”

He had to admit, it sounded amusing through the voice modulator. Clark’s hand whipped up to stifle a giggle. It surprised him, threw him off balance for a moment.

Clark snickered lightly, and Bruce felt his lips curl in a small smile.

“Why are you here, Clark?” Bruce asked. 

The Kryptonian hesitated.

“I guess I’ve been unsure of how to talk to you,” Clark replied.

Bruce opened and closed his mouth a few times. Clark gave him a lopsided smile, before tapping the gingerbread heroes together again.

“I want to be your friend,” Clark used a normal pitched voice this time.

Bruce thought it sounded strained and hopeful at the same time. 

“Why?” the word shot out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Clark looked at the two colourful treats and touched the hands together, considering the answer. Instead of giving one, he said,“I’ve been avoiding you.” Clark mimicked the tone Bruce had used at the Christmas fundraiser, perfectly. When he had deliberately pushed Clark away. 

The burn he felt upon speaking those words threatened to return. His attention was brought back by the sudden intake of air by the invulnerable man.

“How do you feel about that, Superman?” Clark asked.

He looked at the two gaudily decorated representations of themselves, but each in the hand of the other. What could they learn from one another? Bruce thought for a moment. How does an alien being, brought back from the dead to fight a fierce battle, feel about Bruce? He felt a return of guilt. Clark didn’t deserve to be pushed away, but why was the big blue boy scout insistent on becoming friends?

“I’m Superman, everyone likes me,” Bruce didn’t drawl his words as much that time. 

Clark’s eyes narrowed, but they didn’t appear to be angry. 

“No, they just want to race you,” Clark grinned.

Bruce saw Clark’s eyes actually sparkle as an idea formed in that Kryptonian brain.

“Who won?” This time Batman’s distinctive gravelly note was clear in Clark's voice.

Bruce tried not to smirk. Clark’s trying to be clever, he thought to himself.

“Batman would already know,” Bruce’s voice rang clearly, with the perfect Smallville accent.

“Oh, I know,” Clark played along, still modifying his voice.

“Noted,” Bruce responded, the edge of his mouth curled in a half smile. 

“Wait,” Clark interjected suddenly. “We’re out of character.”

Bruce looked at the blue clad man, alien, man, in front of him with curiosity. It reminded him of his words to Alfred, about how Clark was more human. He broke off the thought ruthlessly.

“I’m Batman, I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Superman deepened his voice once more, but instead of aiming for accuracy, it was more amiable ribbing. Then he seemed to hiss out the words ‘glare glare glare’. 

Was Bruce imagining the loosening of pressure between them? Did Clark just sass him? Bubbles of air welled up in his chest, and he wanted to chuckle at Clark’s antics.

He held back a snort of laughter with more difficulty than he anticipated, but he did see the moment bright blue eyes began to almost glow with happiness. A smile quirked at his lips, and Bruce had to look away from Clark. The way the features softened, wide shoulders twitched with release of tension, made his mouth suddenly dry. 

Holding up his Superman Gingerbread man, Bruce flipped his modulator off, and proceeded to bite off a foot. As he chewed the baked treat, Superman’s eyes widened and a blush crept up the Kryptonian’s face.

“This is…. very tasty,” Bruce remarked.

“I’m… tasty?” Clark stammered.

Bruce felt the heat rise to his face and focussed his attention on the gaudily decorated confection.

“Is that cloves I can detect?” Bruce deflected.

“You have a good palate,” Clark smirked.

“I like sweet, and spicy,” Bruce couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped with his words. Part of him was horrified that he was flirting with Superman, and he seemed to have no brain to mouth filter.

The look on Clark’s face did things to his insides, beyond the twisting knife of guilt in his heart. Clark tilted his head and tapped the two gingerbread heroes together once more.

“What does Batman taste like?” Bruce spoke in similar tones to Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet, at an interview. He held his other hand up as a mock microphone.

“Dark and Justicey,” was the gruff voiced reply from Clark.

“Justicey? That’s not a word, Kent!” Bruce had to halt for a second or two, to choke down the laughter that threatened his famed composure. 

It was worth it when he turned towards Clark, their baked goods were lowered slowly. The little joined gingerbread hands were at chest height between them, as their arms dropped in perfect sync. They were less than a meter apart, looking directly into each other's eyes before the moment snapped.

They were both snickering madly in semi-hushed tones. Bruce had his other gauntlet up to dampen the sounds of his uncontrollable fit of giggles. 

Because Clark could hear him clearly, the Kryptonian appeared to be struggling to stifle sounds of amusement as well. 

Whenever Bruce heard Clark muffle a laugh into the hand whipped up over flushed cheeks, he would hold his breath for a second to prevent his own outburst. Otherwise Batman, terror of the night, was going to laugh out loud. 

Clark would hear Bruce struggle to hold his breath, and would snort again, sending them down a spiral of perpetual giggling. 

They fought with their self control for a good few minutes. 

Bruce let out a long breath of air, and tilted his head towards Clark. They had moved closer together during their battle of unseemly hero behaviour.

“Good Lord,” Alfred muttered in exasperation over his comms.

Superman’s eyes widened comically, and Bruce once again had to muffle the bark that escaped him.

Alfred was never going to let him live this one down. Bruce knew they had behaved like silly kids but he didn’t care. His mouth was curved into a carefree smile. Clark looked radiant, and he wanted to lean in. 

It was an even bigger test of his self control than the childish giggling fit had been, and it couldn’t be said he won that battle.

Neither one of them moved.

Bruce dragged his gaze away, even as he knew the other didn’t waver for a nanosecond. A few flicks of his fingers, the cowl was being pulled off, and feed to the Cave was cut without sending a breach alarm. He simply dropped the cowl onto the trailing edge of his cape. When he turned back, they were much closer. He repositioned the gingerbread man between them, touching hands once more.

“I want you to be my friend,” Clark said, staring directly into Bruce’s eyes, and jiggling the Batman themed treat.

“You don’t… I,” he began, before Clark interrupted him.

“You don’t sound like Superman! Who are you?” Clark’s voice had lowered dangerously in its register. Bruce felt a shiver walk down his spine at the clipped tones.

“I already like you,” Bruce admitted in a surprised voice.

Bruce had realised the truth of the words, at the same time he revealed it to Clark. It would have shown in his eyes as understanding swept him. He wasn’t naive enough to think Superman missed that telling detail. He felt his cheeks start to flush, and Bruce wondered why his body was doing this to him.

Reaching a hand to the annoying cowl hair exposed to the air, he scruffed it back from his face. Half of it fell down again anyway. He’d looked away from Clark to gaze back where the tree was lighting up. The area around them brightened as the big gold star at the top began to shine.

Clark seemed to emanate acceptance, joy... maybe even hope. The lit star of the Christmas Tree shone in Bruce’s eyes, but there was a sparkle in his peripheral vision where Superman stood.

Bruce wanted to look back, to open his heart as his epiphany had done his mind, and to trust. He paused as a thought sprang up unbidden, he’d done nothing to deserve this. 

Clark seemed to take his hesitation for acceptance. The Man of Steel floated in a bit closer, until their breaths fogged together in the chill air of the evening.

Instead of looking directly at Clark, he focussed on how the heat of his exhale rose between them. It didn’t help him find the will to move back.

“How much do you like me?” Superman’s words a whispered breath.

Clark was the brave one. 

Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder, through the armour, igniting a new fire inside. 

Clark moved closer, and Bruce didn’t lean away. 

“You bought the farm for me,” Clark whispered.

“You bought the farm for the rest of the world, Clark. It was the least I could do,” Bruce huffed out. “I bought a bank, if you want to be technical.”

Clark must have seen something because the Kryptonian pressed forward until they were cheek to cheek.

“Who would do anything to bring me back again,” Clark whispered, honesty and acceptance obvious, into his ear. “Even if it meant fighting Diana, or taking on the whole League, just to try?”

Bruce’s eyes closed as his heartbeat ratcheted up in his chest. Then he felt a gentle pressure on his lips. It was soft, pliant, a brush of weight and movement. He didn’t want to open his eyes. 

Bruce was being kissed. 

There was no conscious decision made, he kissed back. Slowly, their lips began to move together, Bruce’s hand came to rest on Clark’s forearm. He held on as Clark pulled back, used it like a block to stop him chasing  _ more _ .

Bruce opened his eyes and a respectable distance was between them once again. Surprisingly, the gingerbread men were still intact.

The pair said nothing for a minute that felt like an eternity. Clark’s smile was making it hard to breathe. His heart beat wildly in his chest, heat coursed throughout his body, and his lips tingled.

Clark had an expectant look on his face. Bruce felt his mouth opening again, and before he could stop himself, more words tumbled out as his mind reeled in shock.

“I hope that means I can visit Gotham again? Without having to wait until Christmas?” Bruce jiggled his little red and blue Superman with shaking hands, tried to repress the uncontrolled responses from his mutinous body. He was inviting Clark to drop in? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Don’t call me, I’ll call you” the Batman figure danced a little as Clark spoke.

Clark had given him an out. He wanted to take it, but found other words coming out of his mouth once more.

“I hope that’s not the case,” Bruce replied softly. 

“Good to know,” Clark noted, with a distinctive Batman growl.

Clark beamed at him. The blue eyes danced as brilliant white teeth glowed in the low light. The Kryptonian lowered his head and looked up through long lashes. Bruce had seen enough people look at him to recognise desire and longing. The warmth on his cheeks made him wish he was still wearing the cowl. As he gazed into Clark’s eyes, he saw acceptance and happiness.  It was at that moment that Bruce knew his heart was lost.

Bruce nearly stepped forward as Clark stepped back. Superman then began to float up into the cloud layer, taking the Batman cookie, and grinning like a real dork. Bruce knew he had the same expression on his face.

“See you for Christmas,” his voice none but his own.

“If I don’t see you first,” a distinctively growly voice floated back down to him. Bruce felt himself light up with a huge smile. 

“Bring it on, Batman,” Bruce responded lightly.

He could have sworn he heard laughter on the breeze. He put the gingerbread Superman between his teeth and held it there, by the foot, while he retrieved his cowl. Once the frowning visage was tucked safely under his arm, he bit deeply into the pastry.

“Delicious,” he murmured into the night.

 

/END


End file.
